


Spilled Ink

by orphan_account



Category: Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Trans Character, Trans! Simon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 14:06:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16097174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: An AU where your soulmates name is written on your wrist and the color changes to affect their mood.Simon has known for a long time that he’d fall in love with Bram Greenfeld. Until he meets a boy named Blue in a cafe and his whole life turns upside down.Because he doesn’t care about his soulmate, he wants shy, thoughtful, careful Blue. With his perfect grammar and his soccer caves.





	1. A Mistake (Bram)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> I really love soulmate and trans AUs...  
> So here's my go at them
> 
>  
> 
> ALSO: So, all the chapters are really short. I wrote this all at once, but I kept flipping between POVs and I thought it'd be better broken up. So, I'm posting them under separate chapters all at once. It might read better under the display all chapters setting (if you wanna do that, the each chapter is like 500 words).

You aren’t born with names on your wrist. At first soul marks are just blobs of color. Ink spills across your wrist. Then, when your soulmate is old enough to write its barely legible scribes. Until one day the name is clear enough to read. Sometimes the name changes to a nickname. Sometimes they change all together.

This is not how it goes for me. My ink has always been black. No mood changing colors. Nothing. And when all the other kids got scribbles, the ink on my wrist did not morph. I went home crying for a week straight and came back the next Monday with a black wrist band over my non-existent soul mark.

I told myself that it would be okay. Afterall, my parents weren’t soulmates; and they were still happy. Until they weren’t. Until one day Dad said he’d always love me as he walked out the door. I swore he’d never fall in love that day. That the ink on my wrist meant I was supposed to be alone.

The only change came when I was thirteen; when at three pm on a Saturday my wrist started burning. For one wild moment I foolishly hoped, that my soulmate had just taken a little extra time. That maybe I just had to accept that I loved boys, not girls, before the mark showed up. I raced to the bathroom, locking the door behind me and flung the wristband off. A red line cut through the middle of my mark. Distorting the black ink. My heart pounded as I watched it. But the red never turned into a name, never changed color. Just some final acknowledgment that I wasn’t a perfect half. That I’d have to learn to be my own whole.

On the good days I told myself I didn’t need a soulmate. That I’m complete by myself. Not half of a whole, not a piece, but the finished puzzle.

On the bad days I knew in a bone deep fundamental way that I wasn’t enough. That some piece of me is wrong, incomplete, forever.

So, I got straight A’s and threw myself into soccer and tried to make up for not having a soulmate by being as perfect as humanly possible. If I could be perfect, then it wouldn’t matter that something was wrong at my core. I stayed away from love and told myself firmly that I don’t want it. That it’s too hard to talk around cute boys anyway. That I’m happy with friends and Columbia in the fall.

When the early acceptance to Columbia came I celebrated with Mom, then with Garret, called Dad and talked about the English program there.

Then, that night I stared at my wrist and rubbed over the red line. Over and over until I fell asleep.

When Mom and Dad dropped me off at Columbia I let them joke about finding a boyfriend. Talked Garrett off from dragging me to my first college party and reminded myself that I don’t have time for love.

I hung out with Garrett’s soccer friends and lived in the library. Bought a pride pin for my backpack and shrugged off questions about the wristband. I made not having a soulmate work simply by making it a problem for another day.

Until I walked into a coffee shop and ran into a boy with messy blond hair and moon-grey eyes and the name ‘Bram Greenfeld’ on his wrist.

And then I fell in love with that boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... there's fluff somewhere in all this angst. 
> 
> Thanks for reading/commenting/leaving kudos! <3


	2. Fall (Simon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do really love fall...

Fall is my favorite season; Halloween Oreos, a buzz of possibility in the air and the weather not getting in the way of my hoodie only wardrobe. There’s nothing worse than three layers (a binder, a T-shirt, and a hoodie) in the middle of summer. Fall officially starts on September 21; when all the shops put out pumpkin spiced everything. Even though all the leaves are still green, and the air is just as hot as the night before.

But, this year, I have a new reason to love September 21: the adorable guy leaning against the wall, waiting for his drink at my favorite café, _Stack’s_. He’s got soft brown eyes and soccer calves. And slightly knobby hands, but somehow, they’re still cute.

 _Stack’s_ is my favorite cafe for a lot of reasons. The Oreo Frap, the fact that Leah, and her girlfriend Abby both work here. That I’m here so often that everyone knows me. That Leah would probably murder anyone for saying something Transphobic. Stack’s even has gender neutral bathrooms.

Leah’s working today, but she doesn’t call out the boy’s name. Just slides his drink at him and says, “flat white with an extra shot of espresso.”

He tucks his book under his arm and grabs his drink. Pausing after that to look for an open table in the full cafe.

I bite my lip and shove my extra notebook away, so that when the cute guy passes on his way out the door I can casually say, “You can sit here, if you want.”

“Thanks,” The guy mutters, sitting down.

I push my sleeves up, and I swear his eyes catch on the name “Bram Greenfeld” written in neat blue ink across my wrist.

I can’t be sure, because the blue takes me off guard. Only this morning it was a dark grey. (Anxious) I have no idea how my soulmate went from completely stressed out to Zen in a few hours. But soul marks don’t lie. Maybe he found somewhere peaceful.

I drop my right hand under the table and say, “I’m Simon, by the way.”

The boy flushes, and looks down, “I’m Blue.”

***

 Blue shows up every single Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday, and sits with me. He doesn’t talk much, but he laughs at my jokes, and when I slip a piece of paper with my number on it across the table before leaving Blue texts me immediately.

Blue is always grammatical, he’s a little weird but mostly sweet. He cares about things passionately, and he’s probably never gotten less than a 90% on anything. Being around Blue feels like breathing. Safe, and calm, and occasionally like my heart might beat out of my chest.

It started with meeting in the café, and became studying in the library, and midway through October Blue starts hanging out with my friends on weekends. It turns out Nick knows Blue’s best friend Garrett from soccer.

“Why haven’t we met blue before?” Leah asks when Nick greets Blue with a fist bump.

“Blue prefers studying over fun.” Garrett jokes.

“I do not,” Blue turns red, and taps away on his phone.

Garrett rolls his eyes, and the conversations turns into a discussion on soccer. Which Leah happily joins, and Abby and I chose to talk about theater instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blue?!   
> hmmmm…


	3. Don't Know How to Stop (Bram)

Simon Spier has singlehandedly unrooted all my beliefs. Wall, not all. There’s definitely something wrong with me, and before long I’m going to have to admit it. There’s only so long Garrett and Nick can lie about my name.

I’m just not sure what it is, now. I always thought I didn’t have a soulmate. That there was some missing piece of me. Something that made me incompatible.

But my name is on Simon’s wrist. And I can’t say I don’t like cute, dorky, Simon Spier. With his perpetual bed-head and love of Oreos. His Harry Potter commentary, and ability to light anyone else’s day up.

It’s no surprise that Simon is perfect, but I refuse to tie him up in my mess. He deserves someone who can love him back. Not a broken soulmate. Because if there’s one thing I know, it’s that something is wrong with me. With my soul.

The last time someone saw my soul mark I was five years old and in tears. Over how messed up I was. I’ve been so careful since then to never, never, let anyone see. Especially after the red line appeared. The thought of Simon seeing my mark makes me sick, but maybe I’ll be able to explain some other way. If I can ever get the courage up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos inspire Blue to reveal his identity, (maybe, I mean it can't hurt.)


	4. Wrists (Simon)

Falling in love with someone who isn’t your soulmate freaking hurts. There’s this pit in my stomach whenever Blue laughs. When I come rushing into the library and he looks up from his textbooks to roll his eyes at me.

I catch myself daydreaming about his hands, about getting coffee before class together. What his lips taste like. In my mind I skip over all the hard conversations. About Blue’s avoidance of soulmates, over the black wristband on his wrist, and the name on mine. About what the pride pin on his backpack means.

Half the time I feel hopeful, and the other half I feel guilty. Because Blue isn’t my soulmate.

Being around Blue hurts.

But I can’t make myself stop.

Which is how I end up watching Blue type up an essay at my desk on a Friday afternoon. He showed up an hour ago, with Oreos, and his laptop. I think he wanted to watch Netflix, until he realized I hadn’t finished my math homework yet and instead he took up residence at my desk and took to throwing wads of paper at me whenever I got off track.

He tosses another piece of paper at me, it lands in my hair, without looking up.

“Focus, Si.” He’s in a plain white T-shirt today, and cozy Ravenclaw sweatpants. It makes me want to curl up with him and go to sleep. Or marathon all the Harry Potter movies.

“I’m done,” I say.

“Give me a minute.” he hits save and closes the word document then flops down on the bed next to me.

“Did you have a plan?” I ask.

He laughs, “What, my plan couldn’t have been to show up and assault you with paper while you did math?”

“I mean, that sounds like a horrible plan.”

‘Hm,” he pulls his phone out and starts scrolling through his Spotify playlists. I reach up and hit play on Animal by Troye Sivan. Blue smiles at me, setting his phone down on my bedside table. When he lays back down our shoulders press together. I close my eyes and let myself pretend. Just for a moment.

Counting my heartbeats and listening to his soft breathing.

If I scooted down just a little by head would fit into the curve of his neck. I stay where I am.

“What are you thinking about?” Blue asks eventually.

“Soulmates.”

I shouldn’t say it. I know Blue avoids the topic. That there’s something deep and sad behind his wristband. But, I can’t keep it in.

“Oh,” I feel him shift on the bed, but I’m too scared to open my eyes, “what about?”

“Love, and soulmates, and…” I gulp, “falling in love with someone who isn’t your soulmate.”

“What does it feel like?” his voice is so quiet.

I’m not sure what he means exactly.

“It’s like this; I’d pick him over my soulmate in a heartbeat, but I’d never take him away from his perfect, happy, ending.”

“What if he isn’t perfect for anyone? What if he doesn’t get a happy ending?”

“Then I’d love him. Just how he is.”

I open my eyes and roll over to find Blue sitting up at the end of the bed, fiddling with his wristband. He peeks over at me then closes his eyes and goes to unclasp his wristband.

I sit up, so I can reach over and put my hand over his fingers, they’re shaking.

“Blue,” I meant to say more, but Blue’s eyes open at his name and tears spill down his cheeks. I sit up fully now, pulling Blue into a hug.

His hand is still wrapped up in mine, pressed between our bodies.

“Whatever is under that wristband—that’s yours. You don’t owe me that.”

His arms are tight around me, and we just stay like that for a long time. He’s shaking a little, bent over so he can press his wet face into my neck.

“I’ve hidden my mark since I was five.” He finally says.  

I don’t want to pry, but I also want Blue to feel safe. Maybe he needs to let it out. I know a little about hiding away parts of yourself.  

“Do you want to talk about it? You don’t have to.”

Blue pulls back, half sitting in my lap, but I can see his face now. He pulls his wrist from my fingers and unclasps the bracelet.

“I don’t have a soulmate.”

Blue’s wrist isn’t colorful. There’s only a black ink smudge with a red line running through the middle.

I reach up to cup his face with both of my hands, “Blue...”

“My name isn’t Blue,” he fumbles with the wristband, re-clasping it, “it’s Bram.”

I stare at him. His eyes are red from crying, and he looks so scared. I want to say something. Make him feel better, but right now my brain is trying to catch up with everything.

“I’m sorry,” Bl—Bram chokes out, pulling away from me with a jerk, “I don’t know why my name is on your wrist, but I don’t have a soulmate. I’m broken, Simon. I’m… there’s something wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” I say.

He laughs, it’s a humorless, broken sound. It rips my heart out.

“Bram,” his name feels weird on my tongue, “please, believe me.”

He shakes his head, “I should never have—I don’t know what I was thinking…” he rubs his hand over his wristband.

“Please sit down.” I run a hand through my hair. My heart is racing, but I know exactly what’s going on now.

He looks at me, and backs away, sitting down at my desk and burying his face in his hands.

I let out a shaky breath and take off my hoodie. I’m wearing a Columbia shirt underneath, and the binder. Then I stand up and walk over to where Bram is sitting.

“Please,” I kneel down in front of him and tug his hands away from his face, “just listen.”

Bram looks surprised, but he gives me a little nod, and laces his fingers through mine.  

“I wasn’t named Simon until I was thirteen.” I start, “I—I came out as trans when I was thirteen and started gender therapy. I picked Simon because it was one of the names my parents picked, before… before I was,” I close my eyes, “I’m trans, Bram.”

Bram pushes the chair back and sits down on the floor in front of me. When I open my eyes, he’s smiling softly at me, “When I was thirteen the red line appeared. Was the you?”

“Maybe,” I can’t really get the word out, “I always assumed my name would just change on your wrist. Like when people start using nicknames.”

“Did mine ever…?”

“Yeah,” I manage a small smile, “When we were ten. It made me so happy, to see that the name could change. I didn’t know for sure yet, but I felt wrong in my body.”

“I’m sorry you went though that.”

“I’m sorry I made you think you didn’t have a soulmate.”

“I might not be,” Bram said, “I’ve never heard of this before.”

“I’ll google it,” I joke.

“I love you,” Bram says softly, “Simon Spier.” He wraps his arms around me.

“I love you, Abraham Greenfeld.” I rest my head on his shoulder, “and I want this, whether or not we’re soulmates. I don’t care, I pick you.”

 

Bram moves us to the bed, and we stay wrapped up in each other for a long time. I’m not sure how long it’s been, but when the light starts to fade outside he reaches up to trace over my face.

I lean closer to him, and our lips meet. It’s soft, and I can feel his heartbeat under my hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does this count as fluff? They've talked it out at least :)


End file.
